


Tell it to the rain

by INFJgamer



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 12:38:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15315687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INFJgamer/pseuds/INFJgamer
Summary: Boston battles with his guilt over growing closer to Cait.Inspired by the brilliant Fallout comics by gentlezed on Tumblr





	Tell it to the rain

**Author's Note:**

> This is a trade fic between myself and gentlezed. I saw his Fallout comics on Tumblr and fell in love with them. Thanks for letting me play in your sandpit mate.

Just a few steps further.  Keep going. Then no one will see the trickle of guilty, conflicted tears.  The thunder growls echoing through the dusty carcasses of building, masking the anguished cry that finally escapes Boston’s lips.  One word, though barely comprehensible through the hurt warped voice “Sorry.”

 

He means it.  He is sorry. Sorry that since waking up lost and alone in a world he hardly recognises, he’s started to move on.  The worst offence in his eyes, and the worst insult to the memory of Nora is that he’s slowly moving closer to Cait.  

 

He no longer cares to walk around Sanctuary, too many memories, too many ghosts.  So he thinks of the old gas station as home. The battered couch has borne witness to countless hours of ruminating as Boston beats himself up over and over again, the internal anger striking him just as hard as any gut punch.  But tonight that’s not enough, he needs more. That’s why he’s stood in irradiated rain. It stings as it strikes his freshly shaved face, mingling with his tears. The guilt he feels has its own gravity, it’s been getting him down ever since he realised there was a part of him that was falling for Cait.  God he’d wanted to hold her hand so badly in Goodneighbor. 

 

Shaun and Nora had always been the better parts of him.  Nora was his anchor, lighthouse and compass in life. No matter how rough things got, she was there helping him stay put and avoid the jagged rocks of self destructive rage that lurked in the dark waters beneath.  No matter how dark it got when he was a soldier she’d been the beacon that guided him back to his humanity and after the war, when he’d left the army and felt lost, it was her that had set him on his new course as a father.  She’d given him so much; love, stability, a home and then Shaun. He couldn’t have wanted more, but here he was developing feelings for another woman. 

 

At first he’d put his fascination with Cait down to the desire to want to help her, to put that kindness and gentleness that fatherhood had taught him into helping her.  To start with it was just that, but now there was more to it. She was clean now, no longer dependant on the chems, no longer needing his help, yet she stayed. He assumed it was down to loyalty, a quality hard to find these days.  Fuck it who was he kidding, loyalty, true loyalty was in short supply long before the bombs fell. He’s glad she’s stuck around, but with the gladness comes the guilt. Right now, the gravity of that guilt is so heavy it pulls him to his knees.  

 

Cait watches him from a distance with radaway at the ready.  She thinks the world of Boston, but sometimes the man can be a right eejit.  He’d helped MacCready get the medicine that his son had needed. He could find kindness for Dogmeat and her. But he didn’t help himself, he was  _ never _ kind to himself.  

 

How many times had Cait been like that to herself before she’d laid her demons to rest?  She’d lost count of the times that she’d stared into the grimy mirror, red eyed and aching from the come down slapping herself around the face.  She’d berated herself for a pastime. Every time the needle punctured her skin her mind screamed _ “Dirty junkie!” _

 

Boston needed to lay his demon to rest, except it wasn't actually a demon that troubled him but a ghost.  The person he loved, the one he’d made his vows to was a living breathing woman. But she was gone, murdered and avenged.  He’d enjoyed killing Kellogg, the bastard had it coming and Boston was only too happy to oblige. Cait remembered the dark smile on Boston’s face as he watched the life fade from Kellogg’s eyes.  It’d had given Boston some closure, but still she haunted him. Each time he thought about Cait, each time he savoured a moment between them, it felt like a trespass, a violation of the vows he had made.

 

Here on his knees in the irradiated rain, he offers himself up for judgment.  He expects condemnation as opposed to absolution. The heavy rainfall has turned the weather worn road into a small stream.  Empty shell casings and bits of detritus wash past him carried on the current of radioactive water. The stale half empty pack of gum by his knee is too heavy to be swept away, instead the water saturates the packaging releasing sugary wafts of a familiar scent.  The artificial fruity aroma takes him back to his life as a soldier. He’s kissing Nora goodbye before he ships out. Her kisses taste of bubble gum and tears. Nora hated saying goodbye, while she knew Boston would do everything in his power to come home to her, they both knew there was always the chance that he wouldn’t.  They talked about her worries as Boston held her tightly. He’d made her promise that if something happened to him, she’d move on if and when she was ready. She’d told him the same thing. Boston had laughed at the notion in a bid to hide his fear “Nothing is allowed to happen to you Nora.”

 

But it had.  She was gone, as was the packet of archaic gum washed away by the unrelenting rain.  The has been no condemnation or absolution, but he has a sense of clarity and new questions.  Nora had said he could move on, but is he ready and does Cait feel the same way about him?

 

The rain is now torrential, Cait knows that if Boston stays out in it for much longer he’ll be seriously ill.  It’s time to bring him back. She sprints out to him calling “Did I shave away your common sense along with that fuzz of yours?”

 

She offers him her hand “Are you coming, or am I gonna have to drag your radioactive arse back to the garage?”

 

Boston looks at her hand and asks himself  _ “Am I ready to move on?” _

 

His scarred heart answers  _ “Yes!” _

 

For a moment he considers taking her hand, but his self doubt throws him a curveball  _ “Do you deserve to move on?  To be loved? To be happy?” _

 

Before any part of him can formulate an answer, Cait grabs his hand and pulls him to his feet.  Wordlessly they walk back to the garage, Boston feeling the gathering evening breeze cutting through his damp clothes.  Under the safety of the garage, Cait hands him some radaway. His field medic training from the army is pressed into service yet again as he slides the thin cannula into his vein and lets the radaway run its course.  Cait isn’t sure what to say, just that she has to say something other than  _ “Don’t you dare do that again.  I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.” _

 

“Boston?  Next time ya feel like talking a walk in the rain, ya might want ta build one of those fancy decontamination arches first.  Just a thought.” She throws him a tattered towel and smiles.

 

Cracked lips and a hoarse voice say “Thanks Cait.”

 


End file.
